


Waiting for the Hint of a Spark

by banditess



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies), Wonder Woman (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pacific Rim Fusion, Drift Compatibility, F/M, The Drift (Pacific Rim)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-27
Updated: 2017-07-29
Packaged: 2018-12-07 11:48:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11622897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/banditess/pseuds/banditess
Summary: Diana Prince is a Cadet at the Kodiak Island Jaeger Academy during the height of the Kaiju War. She's completed her training and is on track to become a Ranger, ready to pilot a Jaeger of her own...but she's having some trouble finding a Drift partner. Enter Steve Trevor, Strike Trooper, who will show her that sometimes, life doesn't always turn out the way you think it will.A Wonder Woman (2017)/Pacific Rim AUWork in progress.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [serephemeral](https://archiveofourown.org/users/serephemeral/gifts).



> For my dear friend serephemeral, with love today and always ♥
> 
> This is my first foray into the WW fandom, and though it isn't my first foray into the PacRim fandom it HAS been a while and I did play a bit fast and loose with the details of the PPDC canon, so...forgive me. :)
> 
> Title comes from the Deathcab For Cutie song "I Will Follow You Into the Dark," which according to Pacific Rim writer Travis Beacham was the inspiration for the Drift.
> 
> Enjoy!

Diana Prince -- _Cadet_ Prince, now that she’s officially completed her grueling Academy basic training and been promoted from Recruit -- is walking back to her quarters from her third straight day of Drift testing when she first hears the gossip about her in the halls. She tries not to notice them staring as she passes, but she can’t help but overhear their conversation. They aren’t trying _terribly_ hard to keep it quiet.  
  
“That’s her, ain’t it?” a K-Science hopeful in a dusty jumpsuit comments to his colleague, a balding J-Tech trainee.  
  
“The Cadet they can’t find a Drift partner for? Yeah,” says the balding man. “Word is, her combat skills are off the charts, but everyone who hooks up to the Pons with her ends up with their brains scrambled. She’s just _too much_.”  
  
 _‘Too much’?_ Diana thinks. _Oh no, this will not do._ She stops in her tracks and turns on the heel of her PPDC-issue boots.  
  
“Hello there, gentlemen,” she says, staring the two men straight in the eyes with the most charming smile she can muster. “I couldn’t help but overhear you a moment ago, and I just thought you might need a reminder that we are at _war_ , with an inhuman enemy we can barely predict. So until we can figure out a _better way_ to fight these things, the Jaegers are the best hope we have to _save lives_.”  
  
Diana moves closer, her stance wide, shoulders back, hands on her hips, and the men shrink back instinctively against the wall. “I will _not_ become _less_ just because a _man_ is _threatened_ by my presence. I am _enough_ , exactly as I am. My eventual Drift partner -- whoever that might be -- will _understand_ that. The question is...do _you_ understand?”  
  
They nod swiftly, placatingly, grasping at each others’ jumpsuits.  
  
Diana does not relax her posture. “Wonderful. I am _so glad_ we had this chat. I will see you around, gentlemen.”  
  
As they skitter off down the hallway like the rodents they are, Diana wonders what sort of rumors they’ll be telling about her _now_.  
  
  
\---------------------------  
  
  
The first step to determining Drift compatibility is a personality test. Fortunately for Diana, the personality test only needs to be completed once, and the results are then kept on file to be compared against each new candidate’s results. The second step depends quite a bit on the individuals in question. In the early days of the Jaeger Program, they’d hook up an Xbox, pop in Call of Duty, and see how well you could run co-op missions together. Diana had heard stories of Dance Dance Revolution terminals in use as well, though she hadn’t seen those herself. These days, more often than not it was a sparring match in the Kwoon Combat Room, overseen by Fightmaster Antiope, that settled things.  
  
Diana fights what feels like a hundred more people over the next several days, of various races and genders and nationalities -- after all, everyone speaks the same language in the Drift, so even those who don't share the same tongue in ‘meatspace’ might end up being compatible. She spars with people who are excellent fighters, people she greatly respects and would have _gladly_ spent the rest of her days plugged into the Conn-Pod with -- but at the end of each fight, she bows to her opponent, and she feels it in her bones: _This is not the one_.  
  
The compatibility matches aren’t really about _beating_ your opponent -- they’re about _connection_ , seeing how well each combatant reads one another’s moves, how the rhythm of battle ebbs and flows between them. Despite that, even on the sixth straight day of matches, Diana trounces all of her opponents easily. Bowing to her final opponent, she sighs. She crosses to the corner where her bag awaits, reaches in for her towel and begins to pat the sweat from her brow.  
  
Fightmaster Antiope slowly sidles over to her from the dais. Diana suddenly notices her presence as she pulls the towel away from her face. She stands at attention.  
  
Antiope looks around to be sure the others have left the room. “At ease, Cadet.”  
  
Diana relaxes her posture accordingly.  
  
“Listen to me, Diana. I’m sure you have heard the whispers in the corridors about you. I’ve heard a few of the more _unkind_ recruits throw around the word _nepotism_ , but when your aunt is the Academy Fightmaster, I don’t know how you are really expected to escape that one.” She gives Diana a thin smile. “Do not let them get to you. You and I both know you got here on your own merits. And you are stronger than they will ever know.”  
  
“Thank you, Antiope,” Diana smiles back.  
  
The Fightmaster nods. “Now go get some rest, Cadet. We will start again tomorrow.”  
  
Diana bows to her, blushing slightly. “Yes, Fightmaster.”  
  
  
\---------------------------  
  
  
Diana sets down her aluminum tray of veggie “meatloaf” and potatoes and takes a seat at the Mess Hall bench. It’s relatively late for dinner hours -- she’d stopped by her bunk to take a nap before coming down and nearly missed it entirely -- and there are only a handful of stragglers sprinkled about the various tables.  
  
One such straggler is a blonde, broad-shouldered fellow wearing a coat with a fur-trimmed hood, sitting at the other end of Diana’s table. He’s leaned over his empty tray, an apple in his hand. Diana catches his eye just as he bites into the bright red fruit. He smiles politely at her, or at least as best as he can with his teeth sunk into an apple. She laughs a little and returns to her meatless-meatloaf.  
  
He finishes his bite and clears his throat. Diana looks up at him as she continues to eat. “You know, my grandfather was a Vietnam vet. He used to tell me stories of his days in the Service. And for some reason one thing I vividly remember is him telling me about the B1A rations. Apparently, everyone loved them because they included fruit cups.” He pauses. “These days, with so many of the Washington orchards gone, between the Kaiju and climate change...I can’t help but feel like these,” he holds up his apple, “are our B1As. You know?”  
  
“Yes,” she says. “We are lucky to be able to ship them in from places further inland. Others are not so fortunate as the PPDC.”  
  
He laughs ruefully at that. “That’s for sure.”  
  
Something about the man’s earnestness intrigues Diana. She motions towards the space across the bench from her. “Do you enjoy having conversations over long distances, or would you like to come join me--” she searches for some indication of his rank, and, finding the bars on his jacket shoulder, makes a quick mental adjustment, “--Captain…?”  
  
His face lights up. “Trevor. Steve Trevor. And I’ll be right over.”  
  
Steve gets up, deposits his empty tray in the revolving collector, then brings his apple over to Diana’s side of the table and swings his leg over the bench. Now that he’s close, she can see just how _handsome_ he is -- he’s got that rugged look about him, and eyes the color of blue topaz. Like the cloudless, sunny skies over Kodiak Island in May.  
  
“Thanks for the invitation, uh…” he says, squinting at the name patch on Diana’s fatigues.  
  
“Diana Prince.”  
  
She extends her hand to him. He takes it, and she makes special note of the fact that he doesn’t bat an eyelash when her handshake is just as strong as his.  
  
“Cadet Prince, huh? How goes training here at the Academy?”  
  
Diana pushes her now-empty tray to the side. A small sigh escapes from her as she looks off towards the Combat Room.  
  
“I came here to help, but sometimes I just feel like I’m somehow getting in the way…”  
  
“Oh, I’m sure that’s not the case. You getting in the way, I mean. All of us in the PPDC, we’re all contributing something in our own way. You’ll get there too, Cadet.”  
  
Somehow, it’s the most reassuring thing Diana has heard since she enlisted. “Thank you for your kind words, Officer. And please...just Diana is fine.”  
  
“Diana it is, then,” Steve smiles at her, “But if that's the case, then I insist you call me Steve.”  
  
“Alright, Steve,” she grins. “So what brings you to the Academy? I don’t think I’ve seen you since I’ve been here.”  
  
“I’m a Strike Trooper, out of the Anchorage ‘Dome. I’m just here for a day or two -- they’ve got me giving guest lectures in the Strike Team training courses. Not my usual thing, but I do what I can to help.”  
  
“How noble,” says Diana teasingly, and he grins at her in response. “You don’t seem the type to be a _Ground Hound_. Did something happen during your training here? Did you not make the cut for Ranger?” What she thinks but does not say is, _Could they not find a partner for you either?  
  
_ “Yeesh, Diana! You don’t beat around the bush, do you?” Steve laughs. “I could have been a Ranger. I had the aptitude for it -- all the right scores in combat, intelligence, adaptability -- but to be honest? I _wanted_ to be on the ground, helping civilians. Being a Ranger seemed too...I don’t know, too _flashy_.”  
  
“But...not everyone has the ability to pilot a Jaeger, Steve,” Diana says. “Rangers could help _end_ this war. Don’t you think that, if you have that ability, it’s your _duty_ to put it to use?”  
  
Steve crosses his arms and frowns. Just as he opens his mouth to answer, one of the other Mess Hall stragglers passing by to return her tray trips and begins to fall head over heels, right next to Steve and Diana. They jump up simultaneously from the bench and swoop in on either side of the woman, catching her just before she hits the ground. Her tray clatters against the linoleum.  
  
“Are you okay?” Diana asks. The woman groans a surprised ‘yes,’ as they help her to her feet. She picks up her tray, brushes off her fatigues, and thanks Diana and Steve for their help before shuffling off. Diana mumbles a “no problem” but is hardly paying attention -- her eyes are on Steve. And _his_ are on _her_.  
  
She could have sworn she felt _something_ in that moment, as they moved together to catch the falling woman. She’s not quite sure what it was, but it felt sort of warm. A bit familiar. Did he feel it too? Is that why he’s looking at her like that?  
  
She doesn't have a chance to analyze it further before Steve interrupts her thoughts.  
  
“What I had been _about_ to say was that, well, you really see some awful stuff out there in the Miracle Mile zones sometimes. You haven't been in active combat yet, so maybe it just isn't a hundred percent real for you at the moment. But that Kaiju Blue will be in screaming HD soon enough, Diana. And wherever you can best keep people safe -- whether it's on the ground like me, or high up in a Jaeger Conn-Pod -- I'm sure that's where you'll go.”  
  
Diana pauses for a moment. “Maybe I haven’t seen active combat yet. But I’ve seen enough,” she says assertively, “to know that I have to do _something_.”  
  
“Well of course! You wouldn’t be here at the Jaeger Academy otherwise. No matter where you end up, I’m sure you’ll do great things, Cadet.” He smiles good-naturedly. “Goodnight, Diana. Thanks for chatting with me.”  
  
She nods. “Goodnight, Steve.”  
  
  
\---------------------------  
  
  
Steve’s got a terrible internal clock, so it’s hard for him to judge the length of time he’s been lying in his bunk awake and staring at the ceiling since he returned from the Mess Hall. He thinks he must be either hallucinating from exhaustion or dreaming with his eyes open when he hears the soft knocking at his door. He rolls over and checks the black leather watch on his nightstand. 02:18. _Who on earth?  
  
_ When he peers through the peephole of his door, he has to admit he’s only mildly surprised to find that Diana Prince is on the other side. He just _had a feeling_ , somehow. The door creaks as Steve tries to open it as cautiously as he can.  
  
He pokes his head out. “Couldn’t sleep either?”  
  
Diana looks pensive as she speaks, “I wanted to ask a favor, Steve.”  
  
For a moment he thinks that this could be inappropriate, a cadet visiting an officer’s bunk in the middle of the night. But he looks into her eyes, and although he probably wouldn’t say _no_ to her if she asked -- he’d be a _damn dirty liar_ if he said he didn’t think she was absolutely stunning, like a Classical painting come to life -- he just doesn’t get the feeling that she’s at his doorstep in the dead of night for _that_ kind of favor. He takes a look left and right down the corridor to be sure no one else is watching, then steps back, pulls open the door, and motions for her to come inside.  
  
  
\---------------------------  
  
  
She takes a seat in the standard-issue chair at the small standard-issue desk as he closes the door and sits back down on his bunk.  
  
“So,” he leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees, lacing his fingers together under his chin, “how can I help, Diana?”  
  
“I was thinking about what you said. About the choice you made to become a Strike Trooper instead of a Ranger.” She pauses, thinking of how to best explain. “I wanted to become a Ranger so that I could _help_ people, to help end the Kaiju War. My mother forbade me. She said she refused to let her daughter be in harm’s way. So...I enlisted anyway, against her wishes. My mother was upset when she found out, but…” She shrugs. “My aunt has been helping train me ever since.”  
  
“Your aunt must be pretty strong to train you well enough to get you here.”  
  
“I should think so -- she is the Academy Fightmaster.”  
  
Steve sits up straight and blinks. “Whoa, hold on. _Fightmaster Antiope_ is your _aunt_? Holy smokes. This stuff must just run in your blood, huh? Same as military service runs in mine, I guess -- my whole family was Air Force, before I joined up here.”  
  
Diana smiles. She was bracing herself for another _friends in high places_ remark, but is very pleasantly surprised. She feels even more reassured about the favor she's come to ask him.  
  
“So,” he continues, “what was it you wanted to ask me?”  
  
Diana stands before him, her hands balled into fists and placed at her waist, standing tall at her full height (which, Steve suddenly notices, is probably nearly as tall as himself, though he can’t quite judge while sitting). Her expression is deadly serious.  
  
“I always thought it was my destiny to become a Ranger. But maybe the fact that I cannot find a Drift partner is a sign that I belong elsewhere.” She holds him in her gaze. “The only reason I'm still here at the Academy is because of this...this _Drift nonsense_. Otherwise, my training is complete. I wondered, since you're a Captain, that means you have your own unit, yes? So if I became a Trooper...”  
  
Steve scratches the back of his head sheepishly. “You want me to put in a request to have you placed in my unit, don't you.”  
  
Diana nods enthusiastically. “I just want to help people, Steve. Help me to do that. Please.”  
  
He takes a deep breath, holds it for a moment, then lets it out in a great sigh. He looks up at her through his thick eyelashes and grins like a thief about to plan the greatest heist of his career.  
  
“Alright. But you better put in a good word for me with your aunt. It'll make the request go more smoothly -- and to be honest, I've just always admired her and don't want to be on her bad side. Deal?”  
  
“Deal.”  
  
“Great. And you know...maybe if you quit searching so hard for your Drift partner, _they’ll_ just come to _you_. How’s that saying go? ‘You only find love when you stop looking for it’?” He gets up from the bunk and puts on his fur-lined coat, then sloppily pulls on his boots. “Not that the Drift connection is always _romantic_ ,” he adds quickly.  
  
Diana cocks her head to the side questioningly as he grips the door handle. Steve shrugs. “Figured I’d see if the Commissary had any B1As this late.”  
  
It’s not until Steve has walked with her all the way back to her quarters, quietly chatting with her the whole time, that Diana remembers the Commissary is not only _closed_ , but in the __complete opposite direction.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the comments and kudos on the first chapter! ♥ I hope you'll enjoy this one too. :)

Antiope was sat behind her standard-issue aluminum desk, signing papers and shuffling them into folders, when Diana knocked on her office door. Her aunt had smiled good-naturedly when she’d walked in, pleased as usual to see her niece. Now that she’d heard Diana’s request, however, Antiope’s face was an unreadable mask.  
  
“After all the time you have spent trying to become a Ranger, explain to me _why_ you would wish to do this.” She crosses her arms. “You are _so close_ , Diana.”  
  
“I am close, that is true,” says Diana, her hands clasped tightly behind her back. “But walking the path of a Ranger, I cannot move forward without a Drift partner. And every moment that I cannot move forward is a moment that I am not helping people who need it. Maybe someday I will find a Drift partner, but it will happen in its own time, and on _my_ terms. In the meantime...I must contribute however I can.”  
  
Antiope hums appreciatively. Silence settles comfortably between them before she speaks again. “Your mother will like this _even less_ than you becoming a Ranger, you know,” she says as she sighs, a corner of her mouth turning up slightly.  
  
A smile slowly tugs on Diana’s lips as the realization dawns that this means Antiope has approved her request. She knows her aunt has hit the nail on the head when it comes to her mother -- but that would be a fight for another day. _Maybe_.  
  
“You are fortunate that this _Captain Trevor_ is known to me as a skilled officer. It is why the Academy invites him to give guest lectures on occasion,” Antiope says as she opens a desk drawer and pulls out a folder with a photo paper-clipped to the outside. Diana abruptly realizes it’s _her_ photo -- the folder must be her Academy record. “It will take some time, Diana. But I will see to your transfer from the Ranger Training Program into the Strike Group Division.”  
  
Diana bows courteously to her aunt. “Thank you, Antiope. Even if I will not pilot a Jaeger, the training you have given me is invaluable. I only hope I will honor it -- and you.”  
  
Antiope smiles. “Oh, Diana, my unruly niece. War is not a simple thing. You honor me by doing what you must to find your place in it. I have taught you to protect yourself. The rest is up to you.”  
  
  
\---------------------------  
  
  
Diana keeps up with her daily sparring to pass the time until her transfer is made official, though she can barely concentrate on her matches. Her impending departure with Steve has her feeling distracted, like she’s on another world entirely. Maybe she fell through the Breach and has been picnicking in the Anteverse this whole time -- she’d hardly notice if she were.  
  
Should she call him _Captain Trevor_ , she wonders, now that he will be her superior? Or will he still want her to call him _Steve?_

Suddenly, the world starts to spin as the woman Diana is sparring with lifts her and suplexes her, pinning her flat on her back with a _thud_. Antiope blows a whistle to stop the match.  
  
“I don’t know _where_ your head is right now, Cadet,” says the Fightmaster irritatedly as she leans over Diana on the floor, “but I suggest that you _find it_.”  
  
Antiope offers her a hand and pulls her up from the ground. Diana takes a few deep breaths, trying to center herself. As she squares up opposite her opponent, she finds herself wishing not for a Drift partner, as she has been for the past several weeks, but rather for time to _hurry up_.  
  
  
\---------------------------  
  
  
The day she receives word that her transfer has been processed, Diana can hardly sit still. It’s as though her body is vibrating with the excitement of _potential_ , of kinetic energy waiting for release.  
  
She’s waiting, pacing in her quarters when Steve comes to retrieve her for their trip to the Anchorage Shatterdome. To her _new home_. The knock on the door comes in a _shave-and-a-haircut_ rhythm. Diana smiles to herself, nearly leaping across the room to grab the backpack she put together earlier in the evening. Taking a quick look around, she re-confirms that she’s got everything she needs -- PPDC recruits don’t tend to have many worldly possessions, and the Shatterdome should have the usual Commissary supplies. She’s all set.  
  
She opens the door.  
  
There he is, leaning against her doorway, bundled up in his coat like he’s ready to hike a glacier. He gives her a roguish smirk. “Ready to go?”  
  
She scoots him out of the way and closes the door softly behind her. “Ready.”  
  
They make their way to the hangar, where Diana is surprised to see a mid-sized helicopter waiting outside. Its rotor blades spin at a quick pace, blurring into a dark circle. The roar of the rotors and the engine is the loudest thing Diana has heard since the last Kaiju Breach Drill.  
  
“Steve,” she pulls at his sleeve. He stops and comes closer, so she can speak directly to him instead of shouting over the noise of the helicopter. “Is this...for us?”  
  
“Yeah,” he says, leaning close to her ear. “It was my ride over here from the Shatterdome. What, did you think I was gonna make you swim off the island?” He chuckles, and the sound of his laughter in her ear sends a soft shiver up her spine. “Let’s get going.”  
  
“Captain Trevor!” A voice calls out from the far side of the hangar.  
  
They turn around, back towards the Academy corridors. The Fightmaster is walking towards them, her long hair tied back in a tight braid.  
  
Steve stands at attention. “Yes, ma’am!” He replies over the cacophony as she approaches.  
  
Antiope looks him over, then flashes a wry smile to Diana. Somehow, her voice is easily audible over the sounds of the helicopter -- a secret Academy instructor technique, perhaps. “My niece can take care of herself, so I will not ask you to take care of her. Only know that if _anything_ happens to her under _your watch_ , Captain Trevor, I will _come for you_. Do we have an understanding?”  
  
Diana can see him swallow _hard_ , but he nods. “Absolutely, ma’am!”  
  
Antiope turns to Diana and puts her hands on her niece’s shoulders. She gives them a squeeze and, without a word, turns to exit the hangar.  
  
It’s not until this moment that the full weight of what Diana is doing truly settles in. This is it -- she is a Cadet no longer. From this minute on, she is a _Strike Trooper_. A rookie, to be sure. But a Strike Trooper nonetheless.  
  
  
\---------------------------  
  
  
The flight itself is blissfully uneventful. Sitting in the co-pilot’s seat as Steve maneuvers the helicopter towards their destination, Diana looks out over the Alaskan wilderness, the midnight sun dangling just above the horizon, and feels a stillness in herself that she hasn’t felt in some time. She has been restless, she realizes -- sitting in one place so long, waiting for her Drift partner to come to her. Maybe this change of pace will ease her spirit some.  
  
They’ve been in the air about twenty minutes when Steve comments into his headset, “There. See that? Used to be a whole borough down there. You can tell even from all the way up here, there’s not much left of it.”  
  
Diana peers out her side window and can instantly see exactly what Steve is referring to. Against the remnants of the late spring snows, there is a large field of sooty black. Spots of glowing blue dot the landscape, along with what seem to be fires. She can just barely make out the ruins of buildings -- homes, schools, places of worship. _Communities_.  
  
Suddenly, her spirit is much less at ease.  
  
Steve sees the look on her face. “It’s our job to evacuate civilians so that they _don’t_ get caught in this kind of crossfire.”  
  
“And did they?” She blurts out.  
  
“Did they what?”  
  
“Did they get caught in this? The people from that town?”  
  
She feels the helicopter bank away. The ruins below shrink like a magnifying glass pulling back.  
  
“Some did. You’ll probably see the survivors at the ‘Dome. We...we did the best we could.” She can almost feel his deep sigh through the headset. “You’ll sometimes encounter folks who, for one reason or another, refuse to leave. The elderly who feel they’re too old or sick to move, the Kaiju groupies, the actual _Doomsday cultists_ …everyone’s got a reason, and sometimes those convictions outweigh their survival instincts. We do our best to keep casualties as close to zero as we can. But some people just don’t _want_ our help.”  
  
“That’s _ridiculous_ ,” Diana replies. “If they are going to _die_ if they don’t evacuate, why would they _stay_?”  
  
Steve laughs sadly. “I wish I knew, Diana.” His voice is full of ghosts. “Truly, I wish I knew.”  
  
  
\---------------------------  
  
  
The flight to the Shatterdome from Kodiak Island is not long -- less than an hour -- and before Diana knows it they are descending towards an icy cliffside. A helicopter pad juts out over the sea like a hand outstretched, begging for succor. Diana watches as Steve gently sets them down. She observes quietly as he carefully monitors the gauges and eyes their altitude with great concentration. He makes it look so easy, for a moment Diana’s not sure they’ve landed at all until she sees Steve begin to switch things off.  
  
A memory floats to the surface of Diana’s mind: Her late-night visit to Steve’s quarters to ask her favor. _My whole family was Air Force, before I joined up here_ , he had said then -- it was how he’d replied when she revealed her relation to Antiope. Had someone in his family taught him such skillful piloting?  
  
It would have to be a question for later, as Steve’s already unbuckled his harness and is halfway out of the helicopter. Diana quickly takes off her headset and undoes her own harness. Steve is there when she opens the door, offering his hand to help her as she steps out from the cockpit and into the frigid arctic winds.  
  
He smiles warmly as she takes his hand and cautiously steps down. “Welcome to Anchorage! Let’s go get you settled in.”  
  
Diana pulls the cords of her parka hood tighter to shield her face, grabs her backpack, and lets Steve lead the way.


End file.
